


Cozy

by Blucifer



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Felix, Dom Woojin if you turn your head and squint, Fluff, Foot Massage, Kotatsu, Kotatsu Sex, M/M, PWP, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 23:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blucifer/pseuds/Blucifer
Summary: In an ocean of freckles and birthmarks, Felix has this one larger birthmark on his left side, just above the crest of his hip. It makes a perfect target. Push the pale blue sweater upward, and Felix’s skin looks so good with his cum spattered across it.





	Cozy

“This is nice!” Jeongin exclaims as he pops open a can of strawberry milk. Cold can meets warm air and draws condensation to the sides of the can and pulling it downward.

Seungmin’s left foot is jammed into his shin. Changbin’s right foot rests on his lap dangerously close to kicking him in the crotch. Felix is jammed next to him on his right-hand side, and all Woojin can feel is the stifling warmth of nine bodies, and the distinct feeling of fear that happens whenever all of them are crammed into too tight of a space.

Someone, probably him, is going to get kicked in the balls.

“Right?” Jisung moves to grab some of the food on the table, grabbing a strawberry Danish, but only after he reached for, touched, and tainted a series of sweet buns and biscuits. “Why don’t we have these at home?”

Trips to Japan are always nice, even if it’s for work. The food is good, the people are nice, and so long as they wear a mask they can go almost anywhere without being recognized. He and Felix ducked into an arcade on their way out for food. Played two rounds of Dance Dance Revolution surrounded by people their age and were never stopped. They _probably_ couldn’t do that at home.

“Because we’d never get anything done,” Hyunjin supplies.

“No, I mean at a cultural level,” Jisung corrects.

“Still a relevant argument,” Chan responds, but his eyes never once look up from his phone screen.

So, after a horrifically long day of shooting footage, and another long day ahead, they all sit jammed underneath a kotatsu.

Changbin reads from a well-worn used book. Seungmin openly and unashamedly picks his teeth while never breaking eye contact with Jeongin. Jeongin seethes. Minho sits between Jisung and Jeongin with a terrycloth headband on and coats his hair in coconut oil from a tub that rests on the counter, mixed in with the food.

So even though they’re very far away, it feels a lot like home.

The cold air weaves itself into the fibers of his sweater and bites at the tip of Woojin’s nose, but from the place that the blanket is stretched over their laps to the tip of his toes is addictive and warm. The soft press of fingers against his palm underneath the blanket, unexpected.

Woojin’s eyes meet Felix’s for a brief moment before he laces their fingers together.

* * *

 

“You could help me, you know.”

Woojin watches as Felix totters slowly back toward the kotatsu, one mug filled with hot water in each hand.  From the way that Felix shuffles his feet to the way that he holds his arms stiff, Woojin can tell that he overfilled the mug, and when the teabags sank inside, water spilled out over the top and onto the carpet.

“But it’s so warm,” Woojin responds. The staff and other members have gone to bed. Changbin and Chan are in their room, but definitely not sleeping. Now that they’re alone, the kotatsu becomes much much nicer. The oppressive heat from nine bodies, and a heater cranked up high becomes muted and transforms into a pleasant smolder. “I can’t move.”

“Sure.” Felix sets the mugs down, a small trickle of green tea spilling out over the edge. Then, he sits, not at the spot closest to Woojin as he had been, but across the table from him.

“Felix,” Woojin slumps over the hardwood surface of the table, reaching for Felix. “Why so far away?”

“Cause,” Felix bends over slightly, and allows his mouth to hover just over the rim of one of the mugs. After sipping away the excess liquid, Felix pushes the mug across the table in offering to Woojin. Somehow, it’s so much better than eating bread that Jisung touched. “I have a job to do,” followed quickly by. “Feet.”

“Huh?” Whenever Felix has a good idea, and Woojin can tell that he thinks it’s a good idea because of the way his mouth turns into a lopsided grin, Felix’s brain moves faster than his mouth can translate. In the end, all that’s left are choppy, monosyllabic words.

“Put your feet in my lap.” 

Woojin immediately complies, uncrossing his legs and resting them in Felix’s lap. Then, Woojin can feel the soft press of fingers against his ankle, pulling his pajama pants up his shin, and his socks down.

Felix rubs his fingers across the arch of Woojin’s foot, and that simple action alone makes chills run down his spine. Felix is so, so good at what he does. Felix presses the pad of his thumb into the ball of Woojin’s foot and fans outward.

Felix repeats this motion several times, until his entire body is relaxed.  Felix’s touch feels like he’s squeezing out all the stress in Woojin’s body from one concentrated location, and it feels like his skin is humming. Close his eyes, lean back against the wall, he could easily fall asleep right now.

Until Felix’s voice, low and kind, pulls him back. “Woojin.”

“Hm?”

“You’re like, really hot,” Felix says as he drags the pads of both thumbs down the arch of Woojin’s foot.

“Felix—” Before he can argue, feign embarrassment, or double down and cockily remind Felix that he’s aware, a groan is torn out of Woojin’s throat. Pressure on his muscles felt like he didn’t even know that his feet had been hurting, but then Felix squeezed out all the unknown aches and tensions in one drag of his fingers.   

“Too much?” Felix’s voice is thick like melted chocolate and dark like the black coffee. When the pressure fades and is replaced by small soothing circles drawn with Felix’s finger tips, Woojin unclenches his eyes. Eyelashes part slowly like curtains to reveal the sight of Felix, rose colored hair popping against the taupe colored walls, and complimenting the large powder blue turtleneck that he wears. Kind eyes, and slight curved smile, Woojin swears that he looks very different when they’re not crushed between the other seven.

“No way.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Hurts in a good way,” Woojin responds. His own voice sounds thick and slurred, like the handful of times he’s felt drunk after a single flute of champagne.  

“You were in those boots today,” Felix notes. “Those always hurt my feet when they aren’t broken in.” As he speaks, Felix switches to his other foot, peels away his sock, repeats the motion. It feels more intimate this way, skin to skin, one sock on and one sock off. Woojin can feel every bit of tension drain from his body.

 The room still smells like sugar, even though the pastries are long gone. It mingles with the earthy scent of their tea, and it makes this rented out ryokan, a place that he’s never been before, feel very much like home.

“Can we go out for oden tomorrow? We passed those stalls, and they looked so good.”

“I guess.” It’s difficult for Woojin to give anything more than monosyllabic responses when Felix is doing this to him. “If the staff don’t have anything planned right?”

“We’ve never let that bother us before,” Felix responds.

“We should get some baked sweet potatoes too,” and with that, they’ve basically already decided. Unless their manager stands in the doorframe on their way out, they’re going to go out tomorrow night.

Felix works from his big toes, all the way down to his very smallest. Balls of his feet, arch, and heel, and when all the tension is rubbed away there, Felix rubs upward to his ankles and his calves.

When there’s nothing left to rub, and all that’s left is the intoxicating glow of warmth from the heater, he suddenly feels so lonely. “C’mere,” slow, slurred, sleepy.

Felix agrees. Doesn’t respond but complies. One minute, Woojin’s watching him sip at his tea, and the next he’s gone, dipped underneath the low table, and resurfacing on Woojin’s side of the kotatsu.

“Perfect,” Woojin slinks down underneath the table. Resting his head on the cushion he’d been sitting on, he pulls Felix close and spoons him from behind.

* * *

 

 If Woojin were a good boyfriend, he’d sit up and repay the favor by rubbing Felix’s back until he was nothing more than a melted, Felix puddle on the floor.

“How are your hands so cold?”

“Warm me up Felix,” because even though the’re cuddled underneath the heater, sometimes the chill sneaks inside. Woojin rests his hands on Felix’s hips and his stomach, curls his fingers with Felix’s own, never quite finding the right place until he lifts up the hem of Felix’s pale blue sweater and rests his hands on perfect, ember hot skin.

Woojin’s fingers move with a sleepy-slowness, and he begins it all over again. Felix’s stomach flutters against his touch, and his breath hitches when Woojin cups his chest. Like chicken without rice, or Chuseok without songpyeon, it’s difficult to imagine touching Felix without kissing him. So, with one arm firmly wrapped around Felix’s middle, Woojin props himself up on his elbow and dusts a trail of sloppy wet kisses down Felix’s nape and neck.

Suddenly, want that wasn’t there moments ago becomes so strong now.

“Woojin,” It’s not the kind of thing that Woojin _intended_ to happen this way, but back rub or no, he very much does manage to melt Felix underneath the warmth of his touch. “What are you doing?”

“Everyone’s asleep,” he supplies. But the better argument is made with his hands, circling Felix’s nipple and tweaking it slightly between his fingertips. The firm flesh pebbles beneath his touch, and the gasp that escapes from Felix’s mouth makes Woojin’s own skin pique with gooseflesh that matches Felix’s own.

Felix tries to turn over onto his other side, to face Woojin. Woojin leverages his strength against Felix, holding him in place and latching onto the lobe of his ear. Felix’s struggle push against the cushions fade into a perfect, pliant body pressed against Woojin.

“Woo-jin,” deeper, needier now. “Usually you’re pushing me away when I pull this kind of thing,” Felix notes. Of course, this statement is accompanied by a roll of Felix’s hips, pushing his bottom into Woojin’s rapidly stiffening cock.

It’s silent permission to move forward. Woojin first grinds the palm of his hand across Felix’s clothed cock. “We’re never alone, and Felix,” Then he moves for the button fly of Felix’s jeans. Getting the first one undone by himself, Felix has to help him with the rest. Woojin lets go of Felix just long enough to let Felix wriggle out of his pants, and Woojin does the same. Blanket shifted away from their bodies for a fraction of a second, cold air pours into the sealed warmth of the kotatsu. “It’s cold out there,” suggesting there’s no closet, or unused guest room that would be better than where they are now.

“Hey,” Felix dives back into the warmth and presses his body back against Woojin’s. “Stop that,” and pulls the blankets back down over them.

Woojin’s strong grip returns to Felix’s body, slotting him against his body to make sure that Felix can feel every twitch and every cock of his cock against his hole. Then, Woojin allows his hand to drift downward to Felix’s cock.

Woojin absolutely, unashamedly loves the way that Felix’s cock feels in his hand. His palm glides easily from the root to the tip, silken foreskin tugged up and down between his fingers. Wet, always so wet, Felix leaks precum from the moment things cross the line from familiar to intimate. Woojin wouldn’t be surprised if Felix peeled away his jeans alongside the sticky damp feeling of having his cock stuck to his underwear, that’s how much his boyfriend leaks.

Woojin plays a strange, and disjointed sound in low octaves on Felix’s body. The notes, Felix’s voice, and the noises that he makes are beautiful, addictive, and begging to be swallowed up. Felix loves to kiss and be kiss, and so for Woojin to deny him for so long must have been maddening. When their lips meet, Felix’s mouth is wet and cloying.

When they part with a smack, Felix tries to turn on his hip again. After all, they’d been on their sides this whole time, and Felix loves to give as good as he gets. But…

Woojin doesn’t just hold Felix still now but rolls him onto his stomach and fans out on top of Felix’s smaller, lithe frame. Talent from years and years of trainee wrestling matches honed and sharpened just so he could push his boyfriend down now.

“Woojin, let me touch you.” Frustration, rare in Felix’s voice, to the point of being coveted, spills out in the gaps in his teeth and stings Woojin’s skin moreso than the cold.

Normally, Woojin wouldn’t mind at all. He loves the way that Felix’s small hand looks wrapped around his thick cock. Loves it even more when Felix is between his legs, sucking his cock or fingering him whenever they change things around. But now? “Let me,” and it’s difficult for him to articulate exactly what he wants when he’s trying to straddle Felix’s body. But Felix likes rubbing his feet, and Woojin likes making sure that Felix is well fucked. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Felix stills against Woojin, and shoots a look back at him. “Do we have anything?” Again, permission is granted indirectly.

Woojin turns back onto his other hip, looking across the items still scattered across the table top of the kotatsu. Discarded, noise cancelling headphones. No. Their empty teacups. No. His eyes pass over Minho’s plastic jar of coconut oil. Yes. Thankyou Minho. “Yeah.”

Felix wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, bottom lip tugged underneath his teeth, and then allowed to spring free pink and plump. Looking over his shoulder at Woojin, he answers simply, “okay.”

Woojin fumbles with the lid, and scoops out too much of the viscous solid-liquid oil. It melts on contact, streaking down Woojin’s palm and his wrist, and looks absolutely obscene dribbling onto Felix’s lower back when he turns back to Felix.

With oil everywhere, across the length of his own cock, and Felix’s hole and his thighs, the scent of coconut oil is forever imprinted into the back of Woojin’s brain as something wonderful and nasty.

In a matter of seconds, Felix’s demands change from an implicit _should we_ to, “come on Woojin.”

“I want to.” God does he want to. With the hand that isn’t covered in coconut oil, Woojin pushes up Felix’s sweater. Pale, freckle dappled skin is revealed from underneath the fabric on and on until it’s halted abruptly by Woojin’s own body, stiff pink cock peeking out from his own olive-green sweater. Woojin moves quickly, circling Felix’s hole with the pad of his thumb and pushing inside almost immediately.

“Do you think—”

“Yeah—”

Without another word, Woojin leans down onto Felix, dwarfing him completely. Woojin slides his thumb out, and pushes his cock inside inch by inch until he’s engulfed by Felix.

For a moment, all Woojin can do is stare at the way that Felix’s hole twitches around him.  Low and uninhibited, Felix drags Woojin back to reality with his gravelly voice. Loud enough to echo in the quiet common area, Woojin seals his lips over Felix’s mouth in an attempt to quiet him.

The dry heat of the heater underneath the table intermingles with the damp press of skin against skin. It makes everything hot and sticky to the touch. Perspiration builds on their bodies, causing them to slide against one another. Becomes trapped underneath the thick fibers of his sweater and steams him.

Felix is so tight, and so wet, and so good, he cannot help but be greedy. He pulls out ever so slightly, and then grinds deeper into Felix. This only draws another moan from Felix, and this time, the sound intermingles with his own.

“Be quiet.”

“You’re making noise too,” Felix responds.

“Yeah but-“ Woojin interrupts Felix with another languid roll of his hips, this time sliding almost all the way out and sliding back in slowly. Another too loud-too-distinct moan pours from Felix’s throat.

Woojin tries again, but mind still clouded by Felix, he falls short of anything truly effective. Presses his index and middle fingers against Felix’s lips and rests the pads against his tongue. Felix seems to like this just as much, if not more than kissing. Sucking on them eagerly, Woojin watches Felix’s Adam’s apple bob in profile.

Woojin moves slowly, but it doesn’t mute the urgency that builds between them at all. Woojin bites his own lip until it aches with a deep purple throb trying to keep back noise. Woojin removes his fingers from Felix’s mouth and works his hand underneath Felix’s body to furiously work his cock. Felix’s moans are stretched like taffy. They break at the ends, and become short choppy syllables, “Woo-jin.”

In an ocean of freckles and birthmarks, Felix has this one larger birthmark on his left side, just above the crest of his hip. It makes a perfect target. Pull out, push the pale blue sweater upward, Felix’s skin looks so good with his cum spattered across it. Even better when his own belly is covered in it. Felix’s hand joins his own, and they jerk furiously together until Felix is cumming too.  

* * *

 

“Hey,” Woojin snaps at Felix’s disposable chopsticks with his own, never mind the fact that there are plenty of nice lacquer ones in the drawer in the kitchen. “Eat your own.”

 “Trade me. Give me an egg,” Woojin offers while taking a wedge of daikon between his chopsticks.

“That’s not fair.”

“Fish cake then,” bargaining still like he hasn’t decided already.

Two steaming clam shell containers of 7-11 oden rest on the kotatsu table alongside discarded, noise cancelling headphones, their empty teacups, and a jar of coconut oil with the lid slightly ajar. All of the daikon is gone from Felix’s container.

Pinch of his chopsticks, and slowly, piece by piece Woojin repopulates Felix’s bowl with daikon. When he’s satisfied, Felix with a smile passes his soft-boiled egg off to Woojin.

They'll get sweet potatoes tomorrow. 


End file.
